


In The Night Air

by EatTheRudeLambs (RowanRiordan)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Cannibalism, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Road Trips, Slash later, Smut, Sterek Cameo later, Switch!Hannibal, Werewolf!Hannibal, Werewolf!Will, bamf!will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanRiordan/pseuds/EatTheRudeLambs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes he roams...</i><br/> </p><p>Will finds an injured wolf on the edge of his property and decides to take it in, even though is friends think he's crazy for it. Turns out he gets more then he's barginned for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! First attempt at fanfiction on this sight and guess what! It's Hannigram. xD A wrewolf AU! I hope you guys like this. To clear some things up, Will does work for the FBI in this, but not as a profiler and Jack and Alana do not know Hannibal, nor does he live in Baltimore in this. Anyway enjoy and please comment~

He roamed so far sometimes he felt he was lost. It would rain and he couldn’t follow his trail back. He’d stop at a pay phone and call in sick and go back east until he could smell the ocean. But this time he was meandering, lost in the whimsical scents and sounds of the world that unfolded past his autumn eyes. 

The forest was wreathed in fog and the mist sank into his smoky fur, chilling him slightly. To his left he could hear the highway, the rhythmic passage of human vehicles. To his right were fence rows sheltering a small neighborhood. He kept to the darkness, sunsets scanning the porches for life. The midnight was still tonight.

He left the suburban for the ethereal draw of the forests and fields this place had to offer, caught by the plaintive bleating of easy morsels on the moorland. Cotton puffs that made for a delightful snack grazed along the hillside before him, and he loped, tongue lolling toward them, no fear in his veteran step. He could handle farm dogs, deal with shepherds. His silvered muzzle twitched at their smell, the plump creatures startled by his presence. He could easily out pace them, but he was joyed by the chase. Strong limbs pumping as gray pads scraped the stubble of the earth, fangs flashing in the moonlight. His strong jaws grasped the black leg of his meal, wrenching the poor creature to the ground. It bayed pitifully as his struggled, his strong limp holding it in place as he gazed upon its fearful maw and slavered. 

The killing was easy. 

And maybe he was growing old because the lightning that seared his flank as he tore the delicate flesh had no warning. He shot forward, startled and swiveled his head around to peer into the darkness. The offender was standing at the top of the rise, weapon raised. The second bullet scored debris against his side, barely missing him. He galloped off into the dark that would enfold him, hide him, while the pain pulsed all the way to his bone, burning his muscle, constricting his spine until he could only lurch forward, bound to four paws. 

He collapsed at the edge of a field, spying only one dwelling this far out, its yellow lights blinding in the distance and the sounds of humanity muffled by the wind. Crisp snow sank into his fur and speckled his coat, moistening his heated skin. His blue tongue was an ink blot on the white canvas before him, two sunspots burning in his skull. When he tried to move, only a pathetic whine escaped him. He, so strong and full of grace, bitten down by humanity’s cruel brutality. The sun went out and darkness came to him.

*

Winston was fidgeting near the edge of the yard, his spitz type tail flagging. Will Graham pushed himself off of his porch, pulling his green fishing jacket closer to his chest. His brindle companion looked at him empathetically before trotting into the field adjacent to his household. As Will followed him, the rest of his pack trailed behind, fanning out to investigate the interesting sights and sounds of the scrub.

Winston stopped five yards from the tree line, his tail and ears erect and fur bristling. From where Will was watching he could hear the mutt snarling. Picking his way through the early snow to Winston’s side, he peered ahead to see what the trouble was. At first he thought the dog had spotted something in the trees, but as his eyes tracked back he found himself confronted with the largest mound of fur he’d ever seen, laying but four yards ahead of him. It was deep grey, flecked with snow and silver, barely moving. Stepping forward he could see the animal was canine for its long muzzle and distinct cranium. A wolf he assumed by its size, though it’s blue tongue was puzzling. A wolfdog then, which would attribute for its size. He’d only recently read about the gene inhibitors that caused these crossbreeds to grow to such massive sizes. 

A streak of scarlet on the fresh snow drew his eyes down to the hybrid’s flank, where a small bullet hole leaked dark fluid. Clicking his tongue he stepped closer to the beast, trying to gauge its wakefulness and weight. The closer he got, the more he could make out. It was a male, older by the silver that haloed its muzzle and splattered its shoulders. Worn nails suggested near constant movement and the yellowing in its teeth meant it was feral. However it appeared well fed besides, so possibly used to humans. He knelt down close to it, as close as he could get safely, and squeaked his lips. Though the hybrid’s ears twitched, it did not wake or startle. _Unconscious then. Probably been here all night._

He walked around the other side of the big canine, kneeling next to its wound to inspect the damage. He parted the fur with on hand, seeing if he could remove the bullet with his fingers. The animals breathing hitched and when Will looked up, pumpkin orange eyes were watching him with calm intelligence. It raised its massive head to look at him, braced on two powerful legs. He felt frozen, pinned by the humanity in those eyes while the creature looked at him. It sighed and dropped its muzzle back to the ground, keening a note that made him shiver. 

Tentatively he wondered if it would let him try to pick it up. He moved slowly around to its back, pressing one hand onto the broad shoulders. As if sensing his motive, the wolf’s lip curled and it rolled over, wincing at its wounded limb and pushed magnificently onto three paws. Will jumped up in surprise while Winston barked rapidly at him from where he stood. The whole pack had run over now and was watching tensely where they were separated from their master by this monster of muscle and fur. 

Swinging its head lightly around it bore its orange eyes down on the pack of dogs, silencing Winston instantly. Curling its lips at Will, he took two heavy steps toward the pack, back toward the house, before looking at Will again, this time expectantly. Using his empathy as a guide, he strode to the canine’s shoulder, where the wolf leaned against him, huffing. The slow return to his house began.

 

Though he was trembling with fear on the inside at this giant who could easily kill him and his dogs even wounded, he was fascinated by its intelligence and passivity. It knew Will would help it and that it would die without his help. By the time he returned to the house, the wolf was panting hard and it’s steps were clumsier and less composed. It waited in the yard like a stoic statue while Will shut the dogs in the house and found his first aid kit as well as a bowl for water. 

It came onto his porch when he returned, lying on its uninjured side. Gratefully lapping at the water, those sunset hued orbs never left Will as he assessed the wound and took out the necessary tools to remove the bullet. Though he received a growl in response to the long medical tweezers he pulled out, it did not move when he went to work. It was a matter of minutes before his hands were covered in the thick scarlet blood that came from the wound, working the metal down into the small hole, fishing for the offending slug.

Terror gripped his icy calm mind every second as the wolf watched him, lips curled up to show cruel fangs. He felt metal scrape metal and fished farther to get a grip on the piece. It didn’t budge when he pulled gently, but when more force was applied it came up with a sudden ripping sound. The wolf let out a yelp and whipped around, sinking it’s daggers into Will’s forearm. 

He sprang back as it released him, bullet and tweezers forgotten on the floorboards. He clutched his hand to his chest, most red sinking into his clothing. Though he had been bitten by a dog before, it had never been that nerve fraying. The wound burned and tingled, making his flesh twitch. He could swear the wolf gave him an apologetic glance before beginning to lap at its. Slinking around it he gathered the first aid kit and retreated into the house. 

The wound was clean, flesh punctured but not torn and vaguely akin to that quick bite of a snake. Will ran it under warm water and dressed it delicately, though the strange burn-tingle he felt did not ebb until his heart had pattered down to normal. Winston whimpered at him as he left the bathroom, as if asking him not to return outside, but he did so anyway.

 

The wolf needed stitches, which Will was determined to supply. He was given another apologetic look upon arrival that stung his heart. An animal this huge and this smart was either infinitely dangerous or the least dangerous thing he’d ever encountered. He went with the former, marked to prove it. 

The canine was unmoving when the task of stitching came, and only huffed irritably when bandages came out, nipping at them when they were placed. Sitting back, Will watched the wolf lap at his smoke grey fur, cleaning the dark fluid from his leg. He was in great condition for a feral animal, which was beginning to change Will’s mind. He must be domestic, if he was this used to being around houses, other dogs and handled by people. His coat was immaculate barring the recent soiling and he was in excellent shape. Packing away the first aid, he picked up the metal slug that had fallen in his surprise. 

Small tendrils of meat were wrapped around the iron surface, as if they were ivy growing on a rock. It looked as though the wolf’s flesh had tried to mold around the bullet in order to repair itself. A chill ran up Will’s spine as he dropped the ball into a small plastic bag and tucked it into his pocket. The hybrid was watching him calmly. 

“I think I will call you Grey.” He ran his hand along the wolf’s flank and it snorted at him. Shocked laughter bubbled up out of his throat and he shook his head. 

_What am I doing? This is a wolf. A feral animal._

But for some reason he couldn’t stop the feeling of attachment that was growing toward this canine. He wondered if it was the near perfect intelligence it possessed. 

Or possibly something more.


	2. The Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannibal recovers and Will is confused.

Will was not amused. Grey would not go into the dog igloo, even after hay had been put down. He sighed, frustrated, and stood up. 

“Come on. You can’t stay out in the cold.” The wolf blinked slowly before turning away from him and limping up onto the porch. He scratched the sliding door once, looking back at Will. Will sputtered, shaking his head. 

“You’re kidding right?” The wolf snarled at him, eerily aware of his language. Will followed him onto the porch, carefully opening the door. Grey shouldered him on his way into the dark house. Will watched him disappear inside, slightly dazed. 

A loud snarling shook him out of it, chorused by a volley of whining and barks. He charged into the house, rounding on the living room and sputtered. His pack was cowering in the hallway and behind the chairs, peering at the big intruder. Grey had pulled up the dog beds, making himself a spot right in front of the heater. Scratching his scalp, Will couldn’t figure what to do with this beast. Might as well let him be, right? Spying the clock on the wall, he choked. 

“Don’t kill any of my dogs!” He shouted at the wolf, pulling on his coat. “I’ll be back this evening. Winston, you’re in charge.” He scratched the brindle mutt’s ears before heading out the door, cursing himself for being late to work. He hoped his boss would understand. 

*

A snarl curled on his lip when the tan mutt approached him, brazen now without his human. His head was lowered, fur along his spine straight up. 

“I’m not an invalid, pup.” His voice was gravel, barely human and the dog drew back, incredulous. Rolling onto his paws, he shed his fur, scraps of silk and cotton falling away from his skin with it. He’d been shifted for too long. Peering at his thigh where the bullet had pierced him, he was glad the stitched had held. 

The dogs were staring at him now, utterly confused. He ignored them, groping his way into the kitchen. He was not used to being this incapable, but every movement sent a spike into his hip, causing him to stumble. He contemplated taking some clothing from Will, but instead he searched the kitchen for something resembling a schedule, hoping Will kept his work hours on a white board or something. He had no such luck, and sighed, leaning against the mildly grimy counter. Peering around the kitchen he was disgusted by the state of it. Dishes in the sink, crumbs on the tile. He began to search for some cleaning solution. He wasn’t going to stay in some filthy dump while he recovered. 

After he was done with the kitchen he moved into organizing the living room. He took out Will’s ancient vacuum and tried to get all of the fur out of the carpet, mostly his. He reminded himself that he’d have to find somewhere outside to shift from then on. He reorganized Will’s book shelves, dusted, inspected the state of his bedroom and started a load of laundry. The bathroom was. He shivered, resolving to scrub every surface with bleach. _Single men are disgusting._ He mused mildly when he was satisfied with his work and then took a shower, washing the dried blood off of his skin and the dirt out of his hair and from under his nails. 

He returned to the kitchen when he was done, donning a towel and searching the refrigerator for food. Will had no shortage of fish, which he seemed to package himself, but the wolf wanted something more red. He spied two steaks on the top shelf, still in their packaging. No, they weren’t anything near the quality he usually enjoyed, but they were red and they were good. Pulling them out, he began to delicately unwrap them, contemplating if he should cook them or not. 

The crunch of gravel hit his less sensitive ears and he froze, dropping the packaging onto the tile. With a hiss, his body convulsed, twisting as swiftly as it could into his four legged form, his fur pushing out of his skin and bones reshaping themselves into something more canine. He dropped to the floor on his forelegs, using his teeth to tear the plastic wrap the rest of the way. He heard the door swing open, feeling guilty for getting caught stealing. But the rumble in his stomach outweighed that feeling, and he sank his fangs into the soft, cold flesh on the floor, crunching it up along with the bones inside, aware of how loud the sound was. 

“Wha- Jesus! Grey!” Will’s started voice grated his ears, deepening that guilt but he curled his lip at the human, taking the second steak into his mouth and savoring the crunch and easy tear of the morsel. He sniffed the floor for anything he’d forgotten, lapping up a few scraps. Then he looked at Will, who had his hands on his hips, staring disapprovingly. Winston stood next to him, tail wagging. He snarled at the dog, ears flicking back. 

A quick _wap!_ stung his nose and he snapped, surprised at Will’s hand on his face. _“No!”_ The human tried to scold him. Huffing, he shouldered his way past the insolent fool, finding his way back into the living room. Winston trailed him, watching him warily. The wolf rounded, snapping at the dog, pissed off at his attitude. Flopping back, he settled himself in front of the heater, eyeing Will from where his muzzle rested on his paws. 

After disposing of the packaging on the floor, Will actually noticed the state of his kitchen. “What the fuck?” The utterance was mostly for himself and he rubbed his hair, looking around. He traveled through the house, his exclamations getting profounder as he found the result of the wolf’s work. Coming back into the living room, he dug his cellphone out of his coat pocket, flipping it open. His ears pricked, hoping to hear the human’s conversation partner.

“Alana? Did you come over today?” The person on the other lined sounded like a woman. His ears flicked back. He did not like women. 

“Weird. Maybe it was Beverly. My house is like, spotless. It’s so strange.” Will sat down in the armchair near him, peeling off his boots. The woman said a few more things before Will hung up. Taking off his jacket, Will rolled up his sleeve to inspect the bandage on his forearm. He caught the sharp, tingling scent that emitted from the wound, causing him to climb to his paws. Watching Will pull the bandage off, he whined, leaning forward to gaze at it. The small punctures were still oozing droplets of blood and a vicious, clear liquid that he recognized. Will was watching him steadily and he allowed him to lap the hot flesh. His tongue came away salty, coppery and with that familiar sweet taste that made him snarl. Will got out of the chair and he followed the human into the bathroom. 

“It’s so hot.” He prodded his own flesh, running it under a stream of cold water with a hiss. He applied a first aid cream and then wrapped it in a sterile bandage. Then his eyes traveled to the wolf and he reached out, offering a scratch behind the ears. This one time, only this time, the wolf swore, it was allowed. 

“Come on, let’s go outside.” Will offered, vocalizing to his dogs as they headed toward the front of the house. The wolf followed, his limp easing in the cooler air. It numbed the pain, causing his movement to become more fluid. He watched the dogs range out across the field, their tails in the air, and noses in the snow. He kept himself by Will, shoulder brushing his hip occasionally. The human placed his hand in the middle of the wolf’s shoulders, fingers teasing the fur absently. Sunset eyes searched the man’s face but found only a mild affection and revere for the outdoors. 

He paused near one thicket of gorse, skeletal in the winter. His nose twinged, blue tongue lolling out. Dropping a little, he let the savory scent invade his senses, fur crackling a little. Will made a noise, probably a word but the wolf was ignorant, intent on the bushes. 

The powerful bunch of his muscles made his wound burn but he ignored it, thrusting himself into the tangled branches, jaws seeking what his nose had pinpointed. The scream was cut off my his canines piercing the fragile bones, the little body now limp. Two others shot off and the dog pack halfheartedly chased them, but the wolf withdrew with his prize, blood seeping from his maw. 

The limp body of the rabbit swayed when he walked, saving the meal for when he returned to the house. Will didn’t touch him now, but watched him warily. The human saw the killer in this intelligent animal and yes, that was fear he could scent over the blood and flesh smells that invaded his cavities. 

But the killing was easy. 

 

Will watched him from the porch as he pulled the rabbit apart. The dogs milled around him, curious until their master pulled them inside with his sounds, confining them to the house. He enjoyed the woody, wild flavor of the stringy meat, satisfied with himself for being able to kill while his injury still plagued him. 

The small creature was reduced to fur and red snow when he was done. His blue tongue pulled the remains from his lips and he took to the porch where Will sat, watching him. For a long moment he thought the human was going to leave him outside, bar his entrance into the warm house. But instead he held the door open for him, a strange look on his face. 

He watched Will prepare food for his dogs. A carefully decided mixture of cooked meat, rice, potatoes and kibble were placed in seven metal bowls and one dishware one. When the pack was divided and given their respective meals, Will offered the wolf a bowl, placing it before him in the living room where he laid. He didn’t touch it until Will had retreated, taking to his room for the night. 

The food was good; nothing compared to his prey but more satisfactory then the kibble alone. He could tell the meat had been seasoned, and vegetables had ben diced very finely into the mix, adding much needed nutrition. He had to admire the passion Will had for his dogs. 

He wondered if one day, Will might have that passion for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment and let me know what you thought!


	3. The Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannibal is discovered.

He didn’t like where he was. It was lonely, and hard. Maybe he was giving himself over too much, but in this form maintaining control was hard. He couldn’t let himself slip and that meant slipping farther then he would have liked. 

He’d sought comfort in the dogs and gotten to know their teeth. So in that failure, it was easy enough to nose the door to Will’s bedroom open. He was a fitful sleeper it seemed, having tossed his blankets off the end of the bed. The wolf watched his face twist and twitch in his sleep, shuddering breaths warm on the black nose. 

The wolf padded around the bed, finding an adequate amount of space for his body on the other side. When he pulled himself up onto the bed with his front legs, Will spasmed to wakefulness, scrambling to the edge of the bed. He flopped down, his back to the human. Will stayed where he was for a moment, then pulled his blanket back off the floor, wrapping it back around his shoulders. The wolf sighed, pressing his back to the man’s, reveling in the warmth of company. 

 

In the morning he rose before Will, who didn’t stir when he climbed off the bed. Padding swiftly to the sliding door, he hopped up, bracing himself on one side with the wall and using his weight to push the handle with the other. The door slid open enough for him to move outside. The dogs tried to follow him, but he killed that notion with a deep growl and flashing fangs. They crowded back into the house, eyes on him as he sprinted, three-legged, into the woods surrounding Will’s residence. 

He went for nearly fifteen minutes before stopping, finding a relatively snowless spot to shift back into his main form. His body labored to shed the fur and readjust itself to his height. He had to manually pop a few bones into place, pulling clumps of fur away from his abdomen and forearms.

He took this time to inspect his thigh, pulling out each of his stitches with previously manicured nails that now needed some work. The flesh was nearly close, enough to allow him movement without as much pain. The flesh that had been torn was muscle and would take time to return to its original strength and density, even with his excelled rate of healing.  


He took a moment to stretch his human form, reaching above his head, leaning to the right and to the left, bending down. But soon the cool air began to permeate his naked skin.

He rubbed his arms to warm up, knowing he couldn’t shift back so soon. His unique physiology would keep him from hypothermia or any of the other nasty ailments that the cold brought. He anticipated Will would be a late sleeper, not discovering he’d left for another few hours. He could cover ground in that time. He began to head east, back the way he’d come. 

*

Will woke shortly after Grey had left his bed, but was a slow riser. He did not realize the nature of the wolf’s movement before he groggily padded out into the kitchen. At the sight of the open door he ran back to his room, groping for a pair of pants and his coat. The dogs followed him out into the snow. 

They seemed to know what he was looking for, but Will himself was an excellent tracker. Though he preferred to fish, his father had been a deer man, and Will hadn’t given up the skills the old man had taught him. He covered ground quickly, but not as the wolf would, at home in this terrain. Even as Will’s own back wood, he was clumsy in the icy snow, quickly turning to slush as the day heated up. 

“Grey!” He called, knowing the futility of his action. He came to a knobby pine where the ground was surprisingly dry. Around the pine there was fur, clumps and scatterings of dark grey fur, as well as the shiny black thread from Grey’s stitches. The tracks leading away from this spot were less distinct, but in Will’s eyes looked vaguely... human. He shook off the thought, following the trail eastward, back around the way Grey had come from the day before. The tracks grew fresher and fresher; causing Will to move faster and breaking into a full run at Winston’s alert barking up ahead. 

He broke through a tangled patch of brush to find his dogs circled around a densely branched pine, intent on something higher in the foliage. Before Will could step any closer a sharp, resounding _crack_ filled the air, followed by the downward path of a large mass in the tree, carrying branches down with it. It hit the ground with a sickening thud. 

The silence pulsed in Will’s brain, even as he was compelled to approach the fallen creature. A man was spread eagle on the ground, half shrouded by the pine boughs that didn’t hold him. He seemed nearly forty, with greying brown hair. Will took in slowly that he was naked, as appalling as that was, but didn’t seem cold. On the contrary, his skin held a warm glow. Kneeling down, Will reached forward to check the man’s pulse. Surely he couldn’t have survived that fall? 

The instant Will’s skin connected with the man’s his eyes flew open, as orange as sunflowers and he gasped, his mouth stretched wide to display long fanged teeth. His body convulsed, twisting and the sound of breaking bones reverberated around Will shockingly. He cried out, leaping away from the seizing form. 

The man’s skin sank into his body, thick grey fibers sprouting from his pores. Each of his fingers twitched manically before simultaneously shortening. The whole body gave one last convulsion, enough to cause him to flip over, but when he hit the ground again, it wasn’t a man at all, but a large blue-grey wolf, panting heavily. 

Will blinked, and then rubbed his eyes. He pinched himself, slapped himself across the face twice. He had to be dreaming, or hallucinating or both. The wolf turned to face him, sunset orbs pinning him down and he gasped, taking a step back when the beast advanced. 

“Grey? Holy shit...” He backed up until he was flush against the trunk of a maple, caught by the wolf the approached him. A snarl curled on his lips, sending a shower of sparks up Will’s spine, fear gripping him. 

The wolf lunged at him, taking his jacket in his jaws and throwing Will to the ground. His dogs fell into a frenzy of barking but wouldn’t dare approach the big wolf, who stood, panting heavily, over their master. Will’s hands came up, his arms covering his face. The wolf came at him, tearing his jacket and shirt away from his arm, ripping into the bandages that swaddled his hot skin. Will’s mind vaguely registered how easy it would be for the wolf to kill him.

Then he stopped. Will could see the wrath in those orange eyes, where they locked on his torn flesh. The beast gave a final shudder and the rabid anger was gone. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed. Will pushed the form off of him quickly his hands coming away with clumps of grey fur as it fell away from the man’s form once again. Huddling against the base of a tree, he drew his knees up to his chest, fear wracking him. His dogs crowded him but he stayed, unmoving, his eyes locked on the body. His mind tried to process what he’d seen but the gears were grinding and clicking to a halt. Nothing could explain this. Nothing logical. 

*

When he came back to himself, his mind was foggy. He remembered the frantic scramble up the pine, a last ditch attempt to loose Will, not wanting to expose himself. He’d cursed his underestimation and then the fall. Then nothing. Nothing until now. 

He tried to push himself off the ground but his body wasn’t responding to him like it should, instead it twitched feebly. He groaned in frustration, blinking his eyes open blearily. 

“What are you?” the raspy voice reached his ears when he managed to pull himself up into a half sitting position. His head swiveled to meet the eyes of the human he’d stayed with for the past day. His mind clicked a little, taking a moment to wake up from the long exposure to wolfmind. 

“A psychiatrist.” He returned weakly, shaking his hair out of his eyes. The man, Will, barked a laugh. 

“Bullshit. What are you?” He shook his head again, trying to clear the fog. 

“At this moment I’m human.” Suddenly he was knocked over again, a heavy weight pressing down on him. Will pinned his arms beside him, very efficient in how he held the other man down. 

“Don’t fuck around! What are you?” Will’s glasses were sliding off his face, expression wild with conflicting emotion. He could detect the small tremble in his elbows, the sweat on his brow. He feared what was before him. 

“Lycan. Loup Garou. Skinwalker. Werewolf. There are many words for what I am.” He watched the word float into Will’s mind, get chewed up and processed and that only served to increase the valleys above his eyes and the degree of his tensed jaw. 

“Are you going to attack me?” He couldn’t help but laugh, even though laughing pained him with the weight of the other man on his chest. He shook his head as a simple response, eyes drifting over to where Will’s wound was exposed. The vicious clear liquid seeped from the punctures, but now blood escaped now. 

Will watched his eyes travel and his, reeling back from him, the offending limb clung to his chest. “Am I going to become like you?” He exclaimed suddenly, panic rising in his voice. Licking his lips, he let a small sigh escape through his nose. 

“Answer my question, Grey!” Will’s shout startled him, causing him to struggle mildly. He was getting uncomfortable with the man perched on his stomach. 

“My name is Hannibal.” He responded instead, thrashing irritably. Will finally came off of him, stumbling back onto his feet. Hannibal was quick to jump up, crouched and ready in case Will took a go at him, his mind still stuck in his wolf headspace. When his mind registered that Will would not attack him he took a standing position instead. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, before Will let out a small breath. 

“Would you like some clothes?” 

Yes, he definitely would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I hope you liked this chapter. I'm very happy with it. If you have any questions please ask!


	4. The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannibal and Will have conversations. Also, Hannibal does not like robes.

The only article of clothing Will could produce that would fit Hannibal was a plaid flannel robe that had seen better days. Hannibal put it on, preferring to be covered (even if just barely) then not at all. He leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee Will had made. 

The other man was ridged, watching him from across the kitchen. His eyes kept wandering, anywhere but Hannibal’s eyes. They took in the status of the wound on his thigh, the small white scars that crisscrossed his calves and the back of his hands. The went around his face, avoiding his now brown eyes. 

“So. Werewolf.” He started, tapping the side of his coffee mug. 

“If that’s what you prefer to call it.” He clicked his nails on the counter, then drew them up to look at them. They did need some repair. 

“What should I call it?” Will’s voice shook slightly, betraying his fear. Hannibal took another sip of the coffee before depositing it on the counter, crossing his arms. 

“Well, werewolf is a fit, technically, however my mother preferred to call us Skinwalkers and my father took the traditional name for us, _Vilkas_. I personally would rather simply call myself a wolf, but if I must put a word to it, Skinwalker is to my liking.” Will walked over to the sink, rinsing his mug. 

“You say us...?” The timidity in his face was enticing. The submission, the fear. It made Hannibal’s wolf roll happily. 

“Yes. We mostly inhabit Lithuania and Eastern Europe, but some families moved here with the colonists.” Will motioned for his cup and Hannibal handed it over thankfully. Will’s coffee was, to be blunt, dreadful. Hannibal followed him into the living room, where they sat facing each other, Hannibal in the armchair and Will sitting backwards in his desk chair.

“You were the one that cleaned my house?” Hannibal gave a slight nod, picking at a loose thread in the chairs upholstery. He watched Will process this, his little mind working. His eyes drifted down to his arm, which he hadn’t bandaged. 

“Tell me about this.” He held up his arm, studying it. Hannibal took looked, with most expert eyes. The punctures were beginning to close, no longer ragged around the edges and the whole wound was covered in a layer of the clear vicious liquid. The sweet-sharp smell was there, but now it was being absorbed into Will’s natural smoky flavor. 

“I bit you.” Will sighed, glaring at him. Pursing his lips, he continued: “You might become like me. Which, from the state of the wound, seems promising. Or... you could die.” A small, strangled sort of sound came from the man’s throat and he got up, knocking over his chair. After walking into the kitchen, he returned to pace the floor. 

“How will I know?” Hannibal stood up and Will spooked like a deer away from him, careening into his bookshelf and backing against it. Hannibal tracked to where he could stand a comfortable distance away from Will and reached out, motioning to the arm. Hesitantly, Will complied and the man began to inspect the wound. Will ripped his hand back when Hannibal dragged his tongue over the marred flesh. 

“Two days. Maybe less. It’s healing quickly.” Hannibal moved back to where he’d sat in the chair, knowing the distance made Will more comfortable. Will stayed pinned to the shelf for a few minutes, then fled back to the kitchen. Hannibal could hear him on the phone. He waited, running his hands over the short flannel robe he was clad in, catching whiffs of Will floating out of it, his smoke scent, wood scent, dog scent. There was even a fishy overture that Hannibal enjoyed. 

Will came back, peering around the corner timidly. “I took a few days off of work. Where do you live? We should get you some clothes.” Hannibal stood up immediately, happy to get back to his own house. 

The ride to Alexandria was quiet, though Hannibal could see the discomfort he was causing Will. He kept himself as far away from the other man in his seat as he could, purposefully avoiding gazing on him. He was glad his house was not in town, but in a more urban neighborhood, lessening his chances of being caught in such attire. He was finding it hard to keep himself entirely covered in the short robe. 

He quickly retrieved his spare key when they arrived, unlocking the door and motioning Will inside. Will sputtered a little when he entered the house, taking off his shoes in the foyer. Hannibal smiled. “You can wait in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a moment.” He directed Will down the hallway and hurried upstairs. 

Ripping off the robe, he balled it up and tossed it in the waste bin to be gotten rid of. He took a quick shower and toweled off, combing his hair back into its normal neat self. Once out of the washroom, he dressed in simple black slacks, a red dress shirt, black tie and vest, opting to forget the jacket for today. Checking himself one more time in the mirror, he smiled. Yes, this was what he was supposed to look like. More of the fog pushed away, leaving more of himself in its wake. 

“Would you like breakfast?” Hannibal asked, practically dancing into the kitchen. It was strange how one’s own home could invigorate them. Will had taken a seat at the island, and without looking up, he nodded. A somber air had taken the human, causing Hannibal to frown. He would fix that. Good food could always fix a sour mood. 

*

Will watched the other man out of the corner of his eye, eerily at ease with being in the stranger’s house. Normally this was never the case, but today was not a normal day. He observed Hannibal has he took sausage, eggs and biscuits from the refrigerator. 

“So if I become like you... will I want to kill people?” Hannibal rounded on him, eyebrows raised. 

“How do you know I kill people?” Will shrugged, licking his lips. He looked down at his hand, pulling at the light hairs that fuzzed his knuckles. 

“I don’t know. Killing seems easy for you.” Hannibal turned back to the stove where he was preparing the food. 

“I don’t... kill humans.” Will looked at his stiff back, briefly convinced that was a lie. But what did Hannibal have to lie to him about? He shook it off. 

“But I will kill things?” His only response was a nod. Will opened his mouth to ask another question but was cut off my a searing pain in his arm, a heat traveling all the way up to his shoulder. Crying out, he fell from his stool, his head smacking the tile with a sickening sound and his vision danced. 

Hannibal’s blurred form fell over him before he faded into the blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sorry if this chapter is bland, but sometimes that's neccisary! Don't let it deture you from reading, lots more good stuff is coming up! Also, Hannibal lives in Alexandria because I liked it. xD


	5. The Killing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannibal and Winston bond.

When Will came around again, he was in his car, swaddled in a rather large and comfortable golden duvet. Hannibal was driving, looking rather pleasant with himself. The sun was down on the horizon, suggesting to Will that he’d be incoherent for most of the day. 

“What time is it?” He pulled the duvet closer around himself, surprised by the chill of the car. 

“Nearly five.” Hannibal replied, glancing at him. Will sputtered, sitting up more and cursing vividly. 

“Shit, I was supposed to have Alana over tonight for dinner.” A smirk alighted across Hannibal’s face before he nodded, pulling the car onto the shoulder. Before Will could ask him what he was doing, the man was out of the car, loping off into the woods next to the highway. Will got out of the car, still hugging the duvet around himself and waited. 

The grey wolf returned, shaking his pelt before he pushed passed Will to climb into the front seat. Watching his car dip to one side in concern, Will hurried around the other side of the car. He had to drive fast. 

Tonight was important to him. 

*

Hannibal was happy to be free of the car when Will released him, stretching luxuriously when he got onto the gravel. Will rushed up to the house to let the dogs out, calling to Hannibal to take them into the field. He did this easily, a simple bark to keep them in line. 

The brindle mutt shadowed him, sharp brown eyes trained on the wolf’s movement. Hannibal observed him from the corner of his eyes, watching the mutt scent the air when he did, ears perked when his did, body lowered to a crouch with him. Hannibal trained his form on the prey awaiting them in the brush, wondering if the dog had the gull to attack something. With a flick of his tail, he signaled Winston forward, and the dog crept, intent on the brown fuzz nearly invisible in the undergrowth. 

His pounce was too soon, the prey spooked and Hannibal lunged for it, slipping on the melting snow the sprayed up from his paws. His grasping jaws met the soft fur and he closed them hard, flinching at the scream the animal emitted. Before he could cut it off himself, however, a tawny muzzle intercepted him, crunching into the soft areas around the head. 

Winston drew back, please and Hannibal as well, more so. 

Killing came easily to this one. 

 

Will let them into the house when they returned. Ordering the dogs into the living room, the hybrid met the human in the kitchen; sitting back on his haunches to watch Will work. He was preparing a form of fish. Though not as graceful or skilled as the wolf in the kitchen, Will did have some talent. 

“Who are you expecting?” Will jumped in surprise at the half-animal voice. Shaking out of it, he turned back to his counter. 

“Alana Bloom. She’s a co-worker of mine.” Will’s pulse quickened, and the wolf watched a bead of sweat break his brown. His lip curled. 

“I don’t like women. Their voices are too high and they’re too emotional. She knows about me?” Will nodded, giving Hannibal his back as he went to the sink. The wolf got up, padding in a circle and then sat down. 

“I assume I’m expected to act like one of your dogs?” The apologetic glance was enough to answer him. He left the kitchen in disgust to join the pack in the living space. He flopped down on the floor space that allowed him, pleased when Winston came to lay by his side, head on his paws. He nosed at the dog’s ears, the wolf in him delighting at the company. But Hannibal would rather have the human in the next room. 

 

The woman arrived shortly after six o’clock, confessing her lateness. Dinner ready and on the table, Will greeted her at the door. The dogs were more exuberant then he was about her entrance. He watched them from where he stood in the doorway as the nosed her shoes and skirt, receiving pats for their efforts. His lips twisted when her voice rang out, though deep for a woman, all too much for his liking. 

“Oh! My god, Will, he’s huge!” She’d caught sight of him, paling when her eyes assessed his height and width. Will smiled at him, clicking his fingers in a way Hannibal could only assume meant for him to come forward. He stepped out into the hallway, the brighter light, but didn’t go to Will’s side like the man wanted. Instead he held his ground, fur rising on the back of his neck. He could sense how Will was feeling, hear his beating heart and smell the desire that came from him. 

It disgusted the wolf. 

Turning away from them, he headed toward the sliding door, ignoring Will’s protest behind him. He could feel the tawny mutt following him and was relieved for it. Rearing up, he pushed open the door, leading the way out into the darkening back yard. Winston followed him, despite the calls behind them. Curiosity had won on this occasion. 

 

Hannibal led the way to the west, through the black forest, running with his companion on his heels. Though he wished for another, he was happy with the dog, another on his plane of motion to connect with, however unintelligent the creature was. 

They passed the hollow where Will had seen Hannibal, curving sharply to the south, away from the path that led home, paws sinking deep into the mud as they climbed the rise. The wooden fencing was easy for Hannibal to leap and he spun, waiting for his shadow. Winston couldn’t jump the fence, but he didn’t mind the dirt that came with squeezing underneath. 

On this hillside he’d been shot before, not three days passed but that didn’t bother him. His mouth wanted formidable prey and the insolent baying of the lambs was enough to draw him. Eager as he was, Winston gladly followed him into the chase, excellent at herding the sheep. Hannibal danced languidly among them, searching for one that he found suitable, jaws snapping shut never too close to the downy whiteness. 

Quickly, he spotted a young one. Darting forward, it’s spine easily fit into his mouth. There was no death cry, just the snapping for bones under pressure. The mutt joined him, his herding game forgotten. 

He’d barely time to drop his kill before the shot sounded, missing both of them and spraying slit. Issuing a warning bark to the dog, the hybrid rounded, adrenaline pushing the wolf forward and the human mind back. He charged the careless farmer, demonstrating how powerful his teeth were with the scream of metal that blocked the only means of protection the man had. 

Next was his throat. 

In dying the man did no scream, only seized as his life stained the snow red. The wolf was satisfied with its kill, but unwilling to share with the curious dog, who went back to the lamb as he was told to. 

A human’s flesh was not something he tasted often, however much he coveted it, and he found himself gorging on the rude flesh of the shepherd, consuming blood, bones and all. It was hard to recognize the corpse as that of a man when he was sated, trotting over to meet the dog, who’d had his share of stolen meat as well. The moon was rising and they both knew it was time to return to Will. 

Hannibal wondered briefly at what the man would think of his dog’s new trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this one and it didn't gross you out too much! Please comment!


	6. The Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things go a-rye.

They returned in time to watch Alana’s care pull out of Will’s driveway. Hannibal scraped his muzzle in the snow a few times to wash away the last traces of blood before approaching Will. A quick glance at the moon told him it was well after midnight. 

Will spooked a little as they padded out of the darkness. While Winston went to greet his human, Hannibal took the time to shake himself, hard. Thick clumps of grey fur sprayed off of him and he unfolded, standing to inspect his clothing. Minimal wear from prolonged shifting, but nothing too bad. He straightened his tie, approaching the man on the porch. 

“Good evening?” He mused, irritated by the grin plastered on Will’s face. Hannibal motioned Will into the house before turning to go back down the steps. He quickly retrieved his things from the trunk of Will’s car before returning to the warmth of the house. 

“So, you’re spending the night?” Hannibal nodded, aware of Will’s eyes on him as he unpacked some of the food items he’d brought with him. 

“I don’t have a guest room... or a couch for that matter.” The older man turned, furrowing a brow. 

“What’s wrong with last night’s arrangement?” Will sputtered as he followed the other into his bedroom, where Hannibal was unpacking the few days’ worth of clothing he’d brought. 

“Last night I thought you were a do-wolf! Tonight you’re... forty!” Because Will was obviously uncomfortable with the first argument. Hannibal rolled his eyes, tsking at the man. 

“Will, we are two grown adults. I think we have more maturity then that.” Will followed him back into the kitchen, where his guest had started to clean. 

“So what, we have a sleep over?” The two of the chuckled at the notion.

 

“I’m a restless sleeper.” Will sought to warn him before he climbed into the bed. They laid back to back, as that seemed to make Will more comfortable. 

“You didn’t seem to have trouble last night.” 

“Last night you were a dog.”

“And tonight you could die.” Hannibal’s tone was deadly, but he didn’t mean to threaten. It was true. Tomorrow Will could be dead from the bite he’d received.   
And whose fault would that be?

The werewolf shifted positions, unsettled by the thought of killing someone who hadn’t wronged him. Someone who’d saved him. 

Sleep wasn’t easy on him tonight. Will’s constant fidgeting was becoming a problem. It seemed every time he began to sleep he was startled away again by something else. It got to the point of frustrating the wolf and he sighed, turning over rather obnoxiously on Will’s small mattress and tucking his arm around the other man, drawing him against his chest. Will began to protest but he was silenced by the answering snarl, Hannibal’s nose tucked against his neck. He breathed in Will’s sweetened smoke and wood scent, ignoring the tang of Alana’s perfume that rested there as well. 

“Good night, Will.” The wolf muttered as he started to drift, liking the way the man’s body fit against his own. 

 

He wakes to a wrist against his nose. In the night he’d rolled onto his back. Groggy, he blinked his eyes open. “Will?” The question was light as his vision cleared. 

Will was seizing next to him, eyes rolled back in his head. Hannibal leapt up, throwing the sheets away. He reacted so quickly, without thinking he was straddling the other man, pinning his flailing arms against his sides. 

“Will!” The man wasn’t coherent, his skin was burning. Hannibal felt his heart clench in panic, he’d never witnessed someone turn before. Was this normal? Was it bad? He didn’t know. 

“Will! Will, please don’t die, Will...” He tried not to sob, but the terror of being alone again tore at him. He’d bonded with the human, the little man with his little dogs and his little house. 

This wasn’t easy. 

The body beneath him finally stilled and he released a breath, his forehead resting against Will’s burning one. He could feel the ragged breaths against his face, hear his dancing heart and it was enough to assure him he was alive. 

_I have to cool him down._ The thought was enough to inspire movement into him. He climbed off the bed- and subsequently, Will- and hurried to the bathroom, starting the bathwater on the coldest setting he could get it to. 

Returning, he found Will wrapped in his sheet, groaning lightly. 

“My head feels like a kiln.” He muttered, protesting more when Hannibal urged him out of the bed. Will stumbled and Hannibal could feel him quivering. Grasping him around the waist, he hoisted him up, dragging him more or less into the bathroom. 

In afterthought, this was probably not the best method for reducing Will’s fever. But Hannibal lowered him, sheet and all, into the frigid tub anyway. Will hissed, but made no attempt to escape from the water as he was put down, fully clothed. Hannibal drew his arm gently out, removing the now soggy bandages around the wound. 

He flinched at the sight of the puckered red flesh. The clear liquid that has been oozing from the holes was yellowing and smelled sour. He sighed, unable to conjure even a thought on what to do about this. 

“It’s bad isn’t it?” Hannibal shook his head, leaning on the tub to where his face was close in proximity to Will’s, but not touching. Will looked up at him, blinking his bleary hazel eyes. 

“I’ve never turned anyone before...” Hannibal trailed his fingers into the rapidly cooling water. “I mean, I remember my own coming of age... the fever, the change in scent. But... it was so long ago. And I was born like this...” Will gave him a weak smile, raising his arm to touch Hannibal’s shoulder, but he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. The wolf stared at his wound intently, face stony. 

“Do you have any tweezers?” He got up suddenly, heading for the medicine cabinet. He rounded on Will again after obtaining a pair of his desired tool, seeing the man inspecting his own wound. 

“Give it here. There’s something in there.” Will returned his arm to Hannibal’s care, who, after dropping to his knees, pull the skin apart at one of the punctures. He hisses as the shiny flesh split a little, oozing small scarlet drops. He pushed the metal tongs into the small hole, pinching for something. 

Will yelped when he pulled then out quickly. 

“What is it?” He gasped, leaning forward to see what was held between the two prongs.

Hannibal held it up into the light, mesmerized. 

There, perched at the end of his fingers, was a single reddish brown hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter, I had a great time writing it. There will be another update really soon, if not tonight!


	7. The Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack pays Will a visit that takes an unexpected turn.

When Will was out of the bathtub and redressed, Hannibal started to make breakfast for the two of them, remembering that Will had not be able to indulge in his cooking yesterday. A shame it had been to eat alone with Will comatose in his bed for most of the day. But not today! Hannibal reflected sourly on how their mornings had been together. 

They must not be morning people. 

A knock sounded on the door and Will moved to get it. Hannibal decided it wasn’t worth the effort to change and continued to chop potatoes up for the pan. 

“Morning, Will.” A man’s voice sounded from the door and Hannibal turned to see Will and another man enter the kitchen. 

“Ah, Jack, this is Hannibal, my...”

“Doctor.” Hannibal supplied, reaching out to shake the big man’s hand. Jack nodded apprehensively and turned back to Will. Hannibal left them in relative privacy, though his ears couldn’t help but tune into what was being discussed. 

“Alana testified to the wolf being absent last night and Kent Riley was killed by a large animal, Will. How many large animals do we have around here?” Will sputtered with insult. 

“Many, Jack! Black bear, bobcats, pumas!” 

“When was the last time you saw a puma, Will? They said it was characteristic of a lone wolf kill. Where has a lone wolf been sighted in this area? You’re house.”

“Well he’s not here now, Jack. He’s gone...off somewhere.” The man sighed loudly; the waves of negative energy rolling off of him were enough to make Hannibal want to rip his throat out right there.

“You have until six o’clock to turn him in to Animal Control before the police come over here.” He left without excusing himself, which was rather rude in Hannibal’s mind. 

“Who was that?” He mused, turned to present a plate to Will. It was simple today, though still eloquent, an omelet with potatoes prepared on the side for filling. Will did look impressed however as he took the plate to his dining table. Hannibal followed him, quite pleased with himself. 

“My boss.” Will grumbled, and with an appreciative glance, spent the rest of the meal silent, to Hannibal’s displeasure. 

*

Hannibal tidied the house again that day while Will shadowed him in a brooding silence. In the evening, when the dogs wanted to be let out, Will asked Hannibal to take them. 

“Is that wise?” Will mused, checking the height of the sun outside as Hannibal’s form twisted into the wolf. It took less than a minute, but the motion still disturbed Will, the sound of his bones popping. Hannibal shook himself, sending Will a wolfish grin before he leapt off the porch with the rest of the pack. Will couldn’t help but smile. 

In his underwear and wrapped in a sheet, he seated himself on his porch, watching the dogs in the distance. The night was warm, spring in the air as the snow was disappearing day by day. The sun still went down early, turning the sky the color of a wolf’s eyes. It was peaceful. 

But the crunch of gravel shook him out of that peace. The black SUV belonged to Jack, no doubt there to try and collect Hannibal again. Will disembarked from his seat, approaching his boss. Jack’s eyes were on the field and Will followed him to where he could see the grey wolf plainly in hot pursuit of a rabbit they’d kicked up. 

“He didn’t kill Kent Riley.” Jack snorted, unclipping his holster as the dogs began to move back toward the house. Hannibal had yet to spot them, trotting along with his newly caught prize. 

“A wolf is not a dog, Will. Killing is easy for them.” Will shook his head, his mouth open with a retort but he stopped at the loud growl ahead of them. Hannibal had spotted them and dropped his prey, lips curled back with all his fur bristling. His tail flagged assertively, stiff legged in his approach of Jack. The agent drew his gun. 

“Jack, no!” Will shouted, dropping his sheet to lunge in front of the man. 

“Out of the way.” Jack grunted, grabbing Will’s shirt and pushing him away. The wolf raged, breaking into a sprint. Will watched in horror as the grey fur flew away like leaves on the wind, revealing the man beneath, but not quite. His sunset eyes burned, clawed hands knocking Jack’s shocked gun from his hand. Those pointed teeth were not human, nor the strength that possessed him to take the FBI agent by the throat and forcibly throw him part way across the yard. Hannibal started to move before Jack had even come to a stop, helpless against the creature before him without the gun. Will scrambled to his feet, rushing for the wolf. 

“Hannibal, no! Stop!” He shouted, putting himself between Jack and the raging canine. Hannibal’s eyes looked right past him at his target, completely feral. He moved Will aside gently though with his hand, never stopping. Will didn’t stop either. He put himself between them again, this time raising his hand to strike Hannibal across the face. 

The wolf stopped for a moment, his frenzied gaze switching to the man before him, a mixture of confusing and exasperation on his face. But again he didn’t hesitate for long, shouldering past Will to wear Jack was sprawled on the ground, paralyzed by fear it seemed. Hannibal reached down to grasp the front of Jack’s shirt, raising the man off the ground. Panic rose in Will’s throat and he leapt on pure instinct, knocking Jack away from Hannibal and the man went stumbling back. Will fisted his vest, yanking his forward to crush his mouth against Hannibal’s feral lips. 

A shudder ran through his form, as if his muscles were releasing all their tension. Will held the embrace for a moment, feeling the ferality and fierce protection that came off of Hannibal’s skin wash over him, invading his mind through the contact of their lips. His mind began to fuzz with that same rage instinct and he had to break away, panting.   
Hannibal stood limply in front of him, eyes fading back to their human brown, and shoulders slumping as if Will’s hands on his vest were the only thing keeping him standing. The wolf leaked out of him, leaving a nearly incoherent man in its wake. Will released him, letting Hannibal sink onto the melting snow while he regained his humanity. 

“What the fuck is that thing, Will?!” Jack had risen to his feet again, eyes trained on Hannibal as he moved slowly to his dropped weapon. Will was quicker, snatching the gun out of the gravel and turning on Jack. 

“Go home. If you tell anyone about what you saw, I’ll let him eat you.” The words came out of Will’s mouth but not from his own mind, instead it was as if something inside him was speaking through him, something that wanted to protect Hannibal. It was ready to pull the trigger. 

Jack watched him for a moment, flinching when Hannibal climbed to his feet again, looking disoriented. Quickly he got back into his car, the gun trained on him the entire time until he was no longer visible on the road.

 

Will recovered his sheet off the ground, ordering his dogs into the house before he turned on Hannibal. The man had regained most of his composure, though he had this recently awoken expression on his face. 

“What the fuck was that?” He shouted, waving the gun in his hand erratically. Hannibal touched his fingers to his lips. 

“You kissed me.” He deadpanned, brows knitting together. 

“I-” Will hesitated for a moment, face burning. 

“I have a gun goddammit!” He didn’t know what else to say, so he pointed the gun halfheartedly at Hannibal. 

“Instinct.” He supplied, as if that explained anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter and I hope you loved reading it as much as I did!


	8. The Changeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some changes occur.

“So it meant nothing?” It had been two tense days and Will still didn’t feel any better. They’d seen no sign of Jack or any other menacing government organization, but that wasn’t what was on Will’s mind now. 

It had started the first night. Hannibal didn’t hesitate to wind his arms around Will’s body when they’d gone to bed and Will could feel him, his heat and he knew what it meant but he chose to ignore it. That hadn’t helped the morning.

He woke to the other man’s lips trailing along the inside of his neck up to his earlobe. The contact shocked him, warmed him and he removed himself from the bed as quickly as he could, fumbling over an excuse for wanting a shower. 

Hannibal didn’t push him. He didn’t speak about the incidents or even incline to acknowledge Will’s discomfort. Even so, Will avoided contact with him for the rest of the day. But night proved that Hannibal was not going to give up on their sleeping arrangement, strong arms belted around Will before he could even settle in. Will didn’t want to admit that he enjoyed the contact, for he found it much easier to sleep with Hannibal’s touch. 

Those soft lips against his shoulder sent shockwaves through him.

He did not find sleep easy that night. 

 

That next day Will proved to be feeling a little better, the fever lessened though his appetite had gone with it, much to the disappointment of Hannibal. The events of that evening were what really worried Will. 

It had been seasonably warm, the sun dipping on the horizon and Will had taken the dogs into the field. On returning, one of them had presented him with a toy, which he was inclined to throw. It was soothing though, to go through the monotonous motion of throwing the item for the dogs to retrieve. They certainly enjoyed it, which was pleasing. Will began to zone out; not noticing which dog was bringing him the toy each time. Not until it was that silvered muzzle against his hand. 

The sight of the grey wolf before him was exhilarating in a strange, wonderful way. He felt the excitement rise off of him as the wolf danced away from him, begging him to try and retrieve the item from him. And he gave chase, jumping after the wolf, lunging for the rope, tugging hard when he obtained it. Hannibal’s tail flagged happily at this game, nothing seemingly below him when it came to Will. He found laughter bubbling up out of him that he hadn’t heard in years, triumph at taking the prize away from the wolf finally, holding it high out of his reach. But Hannibal jumped, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The hot blue tongue lapped over his stubble and nose and he crowed, pushing back at the beast playfully. He felt the warmth inside him, the radiating joy. 

The love. 

The emotion shook him deeply, shocking him out of his elated state. He stopped, this time forcing Hannibal off of him so he could regain his feet. He didn’t make eye contact with the wolf for the rest of the night. 

 

He guessed now that’s where this question had come from, over the breakfast table. Something inside him wanted to protest, say no, it did mean something, but that, he felt, would be a lie. He couldn’t help what he was feeling. 

How could an empath resist falling in love with someone who loved him? 

But he couldn’t. He was already pursuing a mild relationship and on top of that he’d never been attracted to a man in his life. But Hannibal...

When he was in his human skin, he was much more complicated. His emotions were thick and veiled, giving little to nothing away. He was a dry person, he didn’t exude feelings like other people did. 

But as a wolf his emotions were raw, simple and powerful. Forcibly enough to send Will’s head spinning. A part inside his brain desired that raw, simple emotion. It yearned for it.  
He didn’t reply.

 

That night they found that more hairs had pushed out of Will’s wound, course red-brown bristles that send spikes of pain up Will’s arm when they were touched. The yellowing fluid still leaked from the wound and Will kept it wrapped. 

Hannibal didn’t touch him that night, his arms did not find their way around Will’s waist and the loss of contact was unsettling. The small amount of warmth he broad back against his provided did little to drive away the nightmares. Finally Will conceded. Rolling over, he kept his hands to himself, tucked against his chest, but he pressed the curve of his body against Hannibal, feeling that intense warmth and breathing his clean, earthy scent. Sleep found him much easier.

 

He didn’t expect Alana in the morning. He was in the bathroom, cleaning his wound when the doorbell sounded. He wasn’t even dressed, more interested in the lengthening fibers on his arm. He answered the door in his boxers, forgetting Hannibal in his kitchen, also clad in his sleepwear- silk drawstring pants and a downy robe.   
“Good morning, Will.” Will blinked at the bright light and frowned. 

“Feeling better? May I come in?” Without thinking, he moved out of the way to let her into the house. She stepped into the living room, smiling. Will couldn’t help but feel embarrassed standing there in his underwear. He excused himself for a moment to put on some pants. 

Dressing was altogether more difficult today. His fever had strengthened in the night, causing him to fumble and trip in his attempt to pull on some jeans. He stayed on the floor until his hands stopped shaking, and then regained his footing and dressed himself. 

Alana hadn’t moved from the living room, but when Will returned she looked vaguely concerned. 

“Will, there is a man humming in your kitchen.” Will frowned and then shook his head. 

“Hannibal. He’s an... in home doctor. For my... fever.” Alana reached out to touch the side of his face, making a noise that was irritating. 

“Jack said you’re wolf has disappeared. Will you be coming back to work soon?” Her voice was so high pitched and Will could hardly see straight. Irritably he shook his head, trying to clear it. 

“I don’t know. Alana this really isn’t a good time, okay? I’ll call you.” He ushered her toward the door, trying to stay upright as the room swayed around him. Despite her protests she left the house, to his comfort. 

 

He didn’t make it back down the hallway before he collapsed onto the floor, shaking. His body spasmed and he could feel his mind receding into the white noise of the seizure. He was vaguely aware of his dogs’ barking and Hannibal’s voice over him but he couldn’t hear the words. 

Suddenly a bone in his shoulder popped excoriatingly and he cried out, trying to reach for it but his body wasn’t responding to him. His skin burned and another searing _pop_ sounded in his knee, causing him to jerk around until he was lying on his back, blurry vision staring up at the ceiling, the colors bleeding together. Hannibal stood over him, horrified expression melting off of his face and falling to the floor. His entire body was vibrating; he could hear the sound of it repetitively hitting the floor at odd angles. The burning sensation pushed out of his skin, bursting from under the layers into the icy coolness. More of his bones broke and twisted and he screamed the pain was so intense he couldn’t tell if he was making any noise but his throat rasped and burned and he shook.

Until the blackness held him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know how to end this without a cliffhanger so sorry! I really hope you all liked this very much! Expect chapter 9 very very soon!


	9. The Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will gets comfortable in his skin and the pair find easy prey.

“Will. Will, can you hear me?” Something exploded next to his ear. 

“You aren’t dead. Come on, Will. Open your eyes.” He sighed, his eyelids feeling like lead. He did not want to open them, but the voice was kind and familiar. 

Something soft and warm stroked over his head, his ears, down his neck. His skin twitched, unsure about the indirect touch that he could still feel. Those fingertips behind his ears. _Ooooh_ they were nice. 

Finally he felt he could open his eyes. The world was a blur around him, muted colors melting together. Ahead of him was one of the dogs, the tan one. Winston. Someone lifted his head for him, staring into his eyes. Hannibal searched his face, tentative delight playing openly on his features. His hands cupped the sides of his face, soft and warm and earthy scented. His mouth was so dry when he tried to speak, his throat rasping and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. The motion was different than what he was used to, tongue vapid and thin, mouth thickly stubbled. 

“Let me help you up.” Hannibal slid his hands around his middle. He tried to protest, that he didn’t need help but it came out as a garbled grumble. When Hannibal released him, he felt significantly shorter, like he was on his hands and knees, but at the same time knew he was standing. Peering up at Hannibal, he again tried to talk. 

But instead he barked. 

Startled he leapt back, his head whipping around to attempt to look at himself. He glimpsed black and red-brown fur along his back, a strange sensation along his spine. 

“Will. Will come, look at yourself.” Hannibal motioned him toward his own room, where a full length mirror sat on the back of his door. It was strange to move, to know he was walking, but to be much lower to the ground, the act carried out on four limbs rather than two. 

Hannibal motioned him over to the mirror and he turned, heart lurching at his image.

Two bright yellow eyes looked back at him, set into a wolfish face. He was young looking, not as large as Hannibal’s wolf. His ears were too big, tan paws wide and long tail bushy. His fur reminded him more of a dog rather than a wolf. His face was darkly masked in dark fibers that continued along his spine and over his tail. Fading down from his spine, the fur turned dark reddish brown, and then tan before meeting a cream colored underbelly. The cream fur lined the backs of his legs and under his tail, as well as his chin and under his cheeks. At the top of his black nose sat on small white half circle. 

Hannibal knelt next to him, his hand resting on the top of his head. He tried to speak again like he’d heard Hannibal do so many times, noting that his tongue was also blue, but all that came out was a growling whine. Hannibal chuckled, shaking his head. 

“It took me years to learn how to speak. But don’t worry; you can communicate with me in other ways.” He cocked his head to the side, and then jumped back with a yelp when the man’s body twisted. His transformation was obviously more fluid then his had been, the wolf replacing the man in less than a minute. Hannibal shook himself, orange eyes fixing on him when he was done. 

Hannibal was much larger than the other wolf, compacted with muscle. His fur was longer and not as sleek. When he moved it was liquid and predatory, unlike his own clumsy backward scramble. Hannibal uttered a strange huffing bark before moving past him to pad toward the sliding door. Shaking himself, he followed behind Winston. 

Hannibal led the pack into the back yard, turning to watch the other wolf as he navigated his way off the porch. He slipped in the snow, muzzle diving into the icy slush. Yelping, he jumped up as fast as he could, shaking the wet particles away. 

Hannibal barked, catching his attention. He shrank back as the larger wolf approached, his tail flagging and his lip lightly curled to expose long fangs. The whimper that came out of him was not compulsive, but instinctual. Pleased, the other wolf trotted across the yard without looking back to make sure his new friend would be following. 

*

The smaller wolf was clumsy and skittish, but not senseless, which pleased him. The little one tracked too closely to him, tripping over his large paws and brushing his fur against the grey wolf’s flank, but kept up and stayed observant. 

Picking up his pace, he pulled away from Will, exhilarated by the pulse of his muscles, the sound of the other wolf and his dog pack following, the crisp, warm scents of spring. The forest leapt past him, an array of scent in the brightening light and he was joyful. He had a companion at last. 

Skidding to a stop in a watery hollow, he rounded, shocking the smaller wolf, who collided with him. No irritation came from him, amused instead at the liquid that splattered his pelt in an attempt to right himself, the mud that slicked down the sides of Will’s fur. 

Climbing up the rise with the other at his side, he brushed his nose against the ground and then lifted it to the air, inhaling deeply, checking for the hot, rich scents of life. The tan mutt approached him from the other side, excited in his stance but the wolf had no use for him today. Snarling, he tossed his muzzle toward the rest of the dog pack, too domestic to help him at this time. Forlorn, the mutt retreated to corral the other dogs, keeping them out of the wolf’s way. He leapt back down the rise, following his nose. 

The fact that the young wolf kept pace with him was impressive, even as they followed deeper into the forest. He knew they were fast approaching what he had been searching for and the brief fear that this one’s instincts might not be strong enough for this venture.

But then it was too late, they’d burst into the open, spooking the intended targets- a grouping of whitetails. Will bark sharply, swerving in pursuit of a slim doe and the grey wolf followed him, slavering as he lunged for the legs, his teeth pulling at the soft flesh but he was scored with a sharp hoof against his chest and fell back. His sunspots followed the prey and his smaller companion, so willing to lunge at the deer’s side, sinking his teeth into the fatty handle’s and holding impressively. The other wolf quickly regained his paws, heavy weight enough to pull down the poor creature. 

His jaws clamped shut around the feathery windpipe, satisfied by the life that seeped out of the twitching body until it stilled, heat pouring from the fur. Will looked up at him, yellow eyes full of ferality and hunger. His nerves sang at this, body electrified. 

He threw his head back and sang, sang for his easy kill, for his companion, sang for the years of loneliness ended and the heat in his chest. 

He sang for his love until his breath left him and the wolf took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been my absolute favority so far. I hope you all liked it and I would really love some comments~ 
> 
> ALSO I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA if anyone wants to proof read my work and let me bounce plot bunnies off them, please hop into my ask or fanmail at eattherudelambs.tumblr.com. Thanks guys!
> 
> Another also, the 'explosion' next to Will's ear was Hannibal snapping his fingers. And if you want a better mental image of Will, think about how a young GSD looks- big ears, big paws, sleek form- and then look up images of a red wolf. His coloring is very similar to a red, but with alot of black on his face and down his back and tail. I'll doodle him soon for y'all. I also hope you all understand what I meant by 'sang'.


	10. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hannibal and Will get a lesson in running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this shorter chapter this time guys. Enjoy!

They were returning across the field, both worn and ready for sleep when the sound of a large group of people reached them. In the darkening light Hannibal could see three SUVs parked in Will’s driveway, the lights in the house on and the door open. Snarling, he rounded on the dogs, backing them back up into the tree cover and bidding them to stay. He and Will crept toward the house, keeping low in the slushy snow and brown weeds. 

The man, Jack, stood on the porch, ordering more men in FBI jackets into the house. They were carrying out boxes of things and Hannibal’s lip curled as he recognized his travel bag in one of the men’s hands. He turned to Will, about to speak when a shout caught his attention and his fur stood up, eyes whipping to see where the noise had come from. 

Three men were approaching them fast with catch poles in their hands, another was calling for assistance and Hannibal could feel his skin start to burn at the mechanical roar of ATVs. Barking at Will, he shot off across the field, as fast as his paws could carry him. The smaller wolf tried to pace with him, but he was clumsy, not yet as adept at leaping and bounding through the foliage. 

The yelp made him skid. He rounded on Will, who was held by his rear paw in one of the catch poles. The other men were still five yards behind, but this one had been fast. Without taking the time to assess the situation, Hannibal sprang at the man, ignoring the pole to put his teeth into the soft flesh of the throat. When he looked back Will had freed himself and was on the move toward the forest again. Hannibal didn’t hesitate to join him. 

Their sudden approach scattered the dogs and it took them a moment to begin to follow. Hannibal grabbed Will’s scruff and pulled him forward when he tried to turn back for two of the smaller dogs who were caught. 

“They’ll only slow us down, I’m sorry.” He hissed through his teeth, leading the young wolf up the rise into the darkening blackness. He could hear them pursuing vechiularly, icy prickling into his heart. He tried to block out the memory of being pursued as a younger person, his sister at this side in Will’s place, the poachers on their heels. He was frantic to escape, but he wouldn’t leave Will.

Ahead of them the forest opened up to the highway and he didn’t stop in his forward motion, paw pads scraping on the pavement as he entered the three lane traffic, muscles burning when he lunched himself over top of a car and tripped into the median, laid out on his side. Will came to a stop next to him, the remaining five dogs in his pack on his side. Hannibal could see where their eyes went, to the crash he hadn’t heard in his attempt to cross the freeway, an ATV in hot pursuit of them caught by an oncoming truck. He felt no remorse for this, only saw its advantageous nature and took the rest of his pack quickly over the next section of road and into the forest on the other side. 

 

Will couldn’t hold the shift fairly soon after they’d left the highway, collapsing onto the group while the fur started to melt off of him. Hannibal decidedly shook out of his skin, helping Will peel clumps of fur off of his back and neck, strips of his flannel shirt falling away and holes worn into his jeans. 

He sat with Will while he shivered for a moment, bright yellow eyes reflecting in the dark until the wolf faded and he could breathe steadily. Looking ahead of them he had to admit, they couldn’t return to his home. He didn’t have an idea of where they were, nor a sense of how far it was to... anywhere really. A drizzle had started overhead and Hannibal knew they had to find shelter before they both got soaked. Urging Will onto his feet he began a forward trek in search of a suitable resting place. 

 

They found a road, and from that road they came onto a farm house with a rather large barn behind it. Skirting through the dark and hushing the dogs, they made their way into the barn, hoping to take shelter there.

The inside was pitch black to his human eyes that took longer to adjust. He could faintly make out two pens on the opposite side of the barn, one containing two hogs and the other a half a dozen goats. There was hay baled all around the edges of the walls and plow equipment on this end. He found what he was looking for in stairs up into a small loft containing more hay. He motioned Will over to it, hissing for the dogs to stay quiet as they wanted to investigate. Will climbed halfway up the slanted ladder, then signaled to Hannibal to pass him up the dogs, one by one. After much silent debate, the older man obliged, picking up each of them so Will could hoist them into the loft. The two men followed behind. 

Huddled behind stacked hay bales, Will’s only real covering being Hannibal’s suit jacket and the warmth provided by the other man and his canines, this was how he spent his first night as a werewolf. 

His first night on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it! Please comment! Also feel free to check out another fic I'm working on called The Feral Son. I'm looking for feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to see a picture of Hannibal as a wolf, check this out! http://icyredfields.deviantart.com/art/Hanniwolf-382964180 I drew this myself. ^^ Also, if you want to check out my tumblr: http://eattherudelambs.tumblr.com/
> 
> More art: http://icyredfields.deviantart.com/art/ITNA-The-Grey-386994105 (chapter 1 cover manip)  
> http://icyredfields.deviantart.com/art/ITNA-The-Fever-386994120 (chapter 6 cover manip)
> 
> Hey guys I also wanted to let you know I'll be updating the tags as the story progresses because I'm not quite sure what all I'll add here and I don't want the tags to spoil things.


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